what a beautiful night

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11:07 pm

17 february

paris, france

shawn peter raul mendes

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there’s no point in trying. i fought but i realised that i was the only one fighting. it’s not that i didn’t love her but i found myself in a toxic relationship.

i am broken and bruised.

the roof of the building i’m on is really dark and wet from the february’s snow. i used to came here every year when i was on tour but now i don’t see what i used to see.

i wanted to ask her to marry me but i guess she wasn’t ready to break up with me and i wasn’t ready to know that she didn’t love me anymore.

and in the end ,when everything is done and broken i am the one to suffer.

someone sat beside me and i don’t really care if he’s a criminal or a crazy fan.

“i guess this wasn’t just my place.” a voice said.

i looked at her and she was as broken as me. at least that’s what i think.

“i guess i’m not the only one who’s broken .” i said to her but my voice cracked.

i wiped my tears with my right hand and i tried to keep my hands warm by blowing some hot air.

“so,what’s your story? why are you so lost in the city of love?”

“it used to be city of love forty minutes ago. now it’s city of empty promises.” she started crying again. “he cheated on me. after he proposed.” her sobs are loud and i really feel bad for her.

after a few minutes she stopped.

“what are you looking for? a lost love?”

“i wanted to propose. she broke my heart. she cheated on me with my best friend. but it wasn’t her fault. i let her hurt me.” i defended her without knowing why.

“why are you defending a bitch? ” her voice was loud and i’m sure she didn’t care i still love my ex.

“why are you crying over a jerk? ”

“you were crying too.”

“touche.” i smiled at her.

her dark hair wasn’t covering her face anymore and she took off her glasses from the bridge of her nose shaking her head.

“this is so embarrassing. i’m such a mess.” she wiped the tears from her glasses with the shirt that was covered by her thin jacket.

i took off my denim jacket a fan gave me and i placed it on her shoulders.i wasn’t cold at all. my heart was beating so fast i was almost sweating. she looked up at me and thanked me with a warm smile. her eyes took all the lights from the stars and for a moment my heart felt something.

she looked at the jacket and smiled.

“do you forget your name often?” she pointed at the name tag.

i smiled and i go through my hair with my hand.

“a fan gave it to me and the idea of people knowing my name is nice.” i explain and i feel her absorbing all the words that I’m saying. maybe she doesn’t know me.

" ’take your broken heart and make it into art’ " she read out loud the tag that was on the left side of the jacket. “are you an artist?” she asked with a small smile on her face.

“kind of.”

“what kind of artist?” she sounded so exited and she looked like she truly cared about me.

“i’m a singer. and a song-writer.”

“that’s amazing. i sing too. but just in the shower.” i smiled at her silly joke and i continued looking at her bright eyes.

" so,shawn, i think you need to know that i’m more of a hufflepuff girl.” she laughed at the gryffindor patch.

if she knows about harry potter i feel like we can be friends forever.

“and your heart belongs to the graceful canada.” she pointed at the maple leaf patch. “it’s funny how easy you can discover a stranger just by looking at his jacket. ”

“to be honest with you,i don’t know where I belong anymore. “i looked in her eyes and she looked like she was sorry for me.

i didn’t need pity.

“i can say a very cliche thing ,basically that’s all i do in collage, but you don’t look like that type of guy so i’m gonna say this really quick. fuck that slut.”

for a very short girl she sure has a very dirty mouth.

“only if you fuck that guy.” I replied and she looked at me in pure shock and then she gave me a proud smile.

“deal.” she took her hand from the pocket of her jacket and waited for me to respond at her hand shake.

when i touched her hand all i felt was ice.her hands were cold as fuck.

without thinking twice i took her both hands in my hand and i tried to make them warm.

“why are you so cute?” she asked me in a soft whisper.

“why are you so cold?” i replied at her question with another question. good move shawny boy. “and i’m not cute. i am a fully grown man.”

“you know what they say: people with cold hands have a warm soul.”

“you’re not from here.” i said out of nowhere.“where are you from?”

“so you are asking a young lady where she is from before asking her name. smooth move.” her joke made me feel uncomfortable but i smiled because she smiled.

“then what’s you name,young lady?” i asked in a gentleman tone trying to do my best british accent.

“elena.” i never heard this name in that accent but it sounded amazing.

“you’re clearly not from here.”

“i’m from romania.” she said proud. “and i’m sure you don’t know where is it.” she smiled and her hand now rests on my left shoulder.

“i’m the worst at geography.”

“it’s in eastern europe.” she explained and i was more than confused. her english accent was amazing and i’m sure that it isn’t her first language .

“do you speak russian?”

“if i live in romania it doesn’t mean that I speak russian.but i am fluent in english, french and spanish.”

“you’re an alien.”

“i like talking and it gets boring talking in just one language. ”

i am amazed by her.

“can you say something in your language?” i asked .

" eu sunt numai cioburi.” (a/n: “i am broken”)

“what language is that?” I

i was compleatly fascinated by the way her lips moved to speak those soft words.

“romanian.”

“what did you said?”

“i said ‘what a beautiful night’.” she smiled again at me.